


seki

by dei-chan (skyvein)



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender, Hikaru no Go
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Avatar & Benders Setting, M/M, Really really slow burn, and stupidity, rated for language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2018-11-08 01:59:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11071674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyvein/pseuds/dei-chan
Summary: and here's the stupid thing, about being the avatar's protégé: half the time, they treat him like bait.—an assortment of avatar!au ficlets, mostly chronological, ongoing.





	1. admiral touya, we have a problem

**Author's Note:**

> **seki ******  
> —a Japanese _go_ term for an impasse that cannot be resolved into simple life and death, occasionally translated as 'mutual life'.

Mostly, it starts with Sai. It  _ always _ starts with Sai, and by god,  _ what else is new? _

Hikaru wakes up one day to an empty bed beside him and the sound of running water—both of which, considering the kinds of shenanigans Sai usually got into on a daily basis, were pointing very loudly to the beginnings of another Really Bad Idea.

Also, there's a bloodied man. Sitting unconscious on their couch.  _ Bleeding _ all over it. When had he gotten there?

Suddenly overtaken by a dreadful feeling of calmness, Hikaru pads over to the bathroom, ever the source of that steady trickling of water, and asks, loudly and conversationally, "Sai, would you care to explain yourself?"

The male standing by the tap promptly drops his bucket and leaps sky-high, tension lacing into his slender frame. The bucket, Hikaru notes without pity, clatters onto the ceramic floor and spills its contents all over the unfortunate male, water seeping into the neat yellows and browns of his tunic.

"H-Hikaru! You scared me!"

"Yes, I think that was my intention." Hikaru says wryly as Sai proceeds to wring droplets from his sodden hair, huffing loudly. When Sai is done, having pulled all water from the fabric of his tunic and guided it back into the bucket, Hikaru addresses him again, his tone pointedly glacial, "Now, answer the question."

"Ah?" Sai blinks, looking a little like a cornered elephant rat. "W-What question?"

Hikaru deliberately smiles, and it evokes a visible shudder from the male towering over him. He's been Sai's disciple long enough to make these kinds of smiles his speciality—any moment now, and Sai will spill, unless he wants Hikaru's knee in his gut. Hikaru doesn't think the former in a rush to reenact that particular lesson.

"So, who's this you picked up? Were you waiting for me to help you lug his miserable body to the graveyard?  _ Were you?" _

"But he's still alive!" Sai wails, flailing when Hikaru pins him with another glare."No, really, I saw him outside one of the shops and he was hurt and no one was there and I  _ had _ to help! Hikaru, you know I had to!"

"You could've helped by bringing him to a medic! Who told you to bring a stranger home? For all you know, he could be a serial killer!" Hikaru huffs. "We don't run a hospital, Sai!"

Sai opens his mouth to protest. To whine again, maybe, but the rest of his words remain unheard when the man by the couch groans, marinating in his own blood. In resignation, Hikaru turns his master, holds out one hand for the bucket – already refilled, so at least Sai was doing something right for once – and sighed.

**+**

The man introduces himself as Ogata. Once the blood is washed from his face, he looks significantly in better shape. At least, Hikaru thinks, cuts aside, he doesn't seem to have a gaping wound anywhere.

"Sorry for the trouble." the male says, rubbing at his cracked glasses. "I had a fight with a shopkeeper, and I passed out, I think. I didn't mean to intrude." His tone is cordial and calm, edged with a little accent that Hikaru can't pinpoint the origin of. It's hard to imagine someone as stiff as this brawling in broad daylight.

"That's alright." Sai tells him, smiling cheerfully. "It was no trouble."

Oh, but it  _ was_ _._ Hikaru looks at the blood on the couch, caked all over where Ogata was seated, and surrenders himself to a miserable hour of scrubbing.

Pulling himself into a sitting position, Ogata eyes the glider that Sai usually left hanging by the door, and the orange-browns of Sai's robe. He gives their room a very thorough once over, and Hikaru would ideally be chasing him out already, if not for the fact that he was still bleeding a little from the nose.

"I would've pegged you as an airbender." Ogata says honestly, as Sai busies himself with bending the water from the towel on Ogata's forehead, and transferring it back into the bucket. "But you're a waterbender, aren't you? You don't dress like one."

"A little bit of both, actually." Sai replies, the same time Hikaru's brain goes,  _oh what the hell._ "I'm the Avatar."

**+**

Ogata spends the next ten minutes looking around their apartment, then looking at Sai and Hikaru in turn. There is something remotely calculating about the hazel of his eyes, even though he doesn't speak another word. As though he is still chewing on the thought of Sai, the  _ Avatar _ . And then,

"Isn't the Avatar supposed to be training in the Fire Nation right now?" he asks pleasantly.

Sai opens his mouth, but Hikaru cuts in, twitching, "Yes, but obviously we're taking a break."

"And the Avatar can afford time for this break? Wouldn't it paramount for him to master all four elements as soon as he can?" Ogata muses, his eyes electric. Hikaru tenses under his gaze, which has drifted off to Sai, sizing him up. For what, exactly?

This, predictably, slides past Sai's notice. He pipes up to defend himself, and Hikaru lets him. "Ah, but fire-bending is hard! I told Hikaru I wanted to travel for a bit, and he agreed, and well, here we are."

That is over two weeks ago. At some point in time, maybe after the fourth fleet had gone back with no steam and no avatar, Fire Lord Kouyo had given up on locating them both, reluctantly allowing them to be left them to their own devices. Which was a relief, since Sai has been hell-bent on visiting hot springs for ages now.

Ogata is looking at Sai again, his silence contemplative. Hikaru masks an unpleasant shudder with a slow sip of tea.

**+**

"You didn't have to tell him." Hikaru hisses lowly, when Ogata wanders off to the washroom, leaving them both alone. "You don't go around announcing that you're the avatar! Do you have any idea how many people out there actually want to mount your dismembered head on a pedestal?"

Sai frowns thoughtfully. "But it just slipped out. I was trying to make conversation..."

"Make conversation about something else!"

Hikaru loves Sai, honestly, with every fibre of his being, but sometimes he genuinely wonders how he ended up with this idiot of a master. The thing about Sai is that he is trusting to a fault,  _ all _the time, opening his heart out to anyone willing to spare it a glance, the same way he had opened his arms to Hikaru, and never—

The point is, Sai is the avatar – has been, for twenty five years now – but Hikaru knows better than anyone that even the master of four (well, three and a half) elements needs protection sometimes, and is used to looking out for him by now. Looking out for the both of them.

And Ogata, well, Ogata is a liability. Hikaru has met him for less than two hours, and has already concluded that the dude is a creep. A massive one. He's not sure what to do with this knowledge.

**+**

Later in the evening, Sai volunteers to go out to buy dinner. Before Hikaru can protest, or even pester him to use the door like a proper citizen, the older male leaps out of the window.

There's the familiar sound of an air scooter being formed, and a blast of gentle breeze that blows the windows close, glass rattling. By the time Hikaru pulls the latch properly shut, Sai is but a small speck by the edge of the shophouses, surrounded by loops of air that lacked much purpose, a brazen display of his capabilities—and no hint of subtlety at all. Honestly, it was like struggling to pull a leash over something that didn't understand the concept of limits.

When all is silent, Hikaru turns around and informs Ogata, his words edged with clear revulsion, "Listen up, I don't care what Sai trusts about a shady bastard like you, but let me straighten this out: you leave once you're healed, understand?"

"You know, that's not hospitable at all." Ogata replies, his words a leer, dripping with malice. A smile has broken on his face, splitting it in a grotesque curve, and it's so, so disgusting that Hikaru cannot help but flinch a little. "You're not my target, but I wager I can settle for second best this time."

That's about as clear as anyone can get: it's the avatar he wants. Hikaru is feeling a little exasperated by now—Sai gets a kidnapping attempt maybe once a month, caps, but even then the patterns are pretty much the same. It feels like all the hooligans stopped trying to be creative ages ago.

Here's the stupid thing, about being the avatar's protégé: half the time, they treat him like bait. Ogata is looking at him like he expects Hikaru to, what, yield and come along like a good dog? Wait for Sai to rescue him? Sai may be his master but Hikaru is  _ used _ to taking care of the both of them, used to pulling his own weight.

Why do they always overlook that? Hikaru'll make it their mistake to pay.

"You know, I didn't actually expect him to fall for the act when all I did was lie around and look bloody. A proper avatar should be a bit more wary than that, don't you think?" Ogata says conversationally, pinching the washcloth Sai had left behind between his thumb and forefinger. "Then again, he's not very quiet about his identity, is he? We've been tracking the both of you for weeks now, and he's giving us a very easy job, flying around like that."

(He uses _ 'we',  _ Hikaru notices, unwilling to let that slip. An organisation? How many of those are out there?)

The washcloth bursts into flames, ashes peeling from its smothering edges to drift idly onto the ground.  _ A firebender. _ Ogata's voice takes on a similar quality, all heated and lazy, "I'll make sure he dies a foolish death, worthy of a foolish avatar. In the meantime, though, you can come with us."

Hikaru takes the taunts in silence, questions prickling at his throat like acid. Waya had taught him the proper way to breathe before a battle, to feel the earth in his blood, to embrace it. He keeps himself still, fingers curling by his side so that they can get a hold on the slab of rock under Ogata, tugging against the comfort of its pressure.

Briefly, Hikaru thinks of how long it would take to crumble the ground beneath their feet. Five seconds? He's done that in much shorter, and he can practically feel the earth singing against his limbs now, settling into his bones—a warm and familiar weight, waiting to be carved into being. Close enough to grasp and pull and  _ tear. _

Ogata's palm crackles with lightning, and the air screams and shreds against Hikaru's skin, stiff from all the static. His fingers twitch, freeing a tremor from the earth below his feet, but this pace is wrong, all wrong—

When Ogata barrels towards him, fingertips enclosed with a blinding, roiling light, Hikaru ducks the first blow, then drags at the earth with all the force in his lungs.

The roar of the ground falls apart in tandem with his heartbeat, and the world mottles into darkness.

**+**

When he is pulled back into consciousness, all he hears is ringing. The noise presses against his ears, fading in and out like the ebb and flow of ocean waves dragging across shore.

Blearily, he surveys his surroundings.

A steady drip of water from the ceiling, curved and hollowed out into an angular dome. Its walls are rough with sediments, and behind him, sheets and sheets of uncut rock and worn minerals extend further than he can see, swallowed into darkness. The earth sings with silence, a lack of movement, save for the small vibrations from Ogata – that filthy, sly goddamned bastard – who is slumped against the arc of a stalagmite, asleep. He can feel the slow, lazy hum of that lowlife's heartbeat, and it is almost fragile. Hikaru wants to cleave the ground beneath him, then crush him between it, compressing the earth enough for the life to bleed out from his lungs.

Turning away, Hikaru flexes his fingers to reach beneath the ground, searching for details. The rock goes at least ten feet down, and, when he slams a heel against the floor, the reverberation confirms one thing: he's in a cave, maybe just near the entrance – where the vibrations gradually soften out – but behind him are caverns that stretch further than the resonance can tell.

This is new.

Both his arms and legs have been pinned to the wall, wound thickly with chains. Hikaru tugs at them, gently, just to gage how much strength he needed to get them to give. Another one binds tightly to his neck, so that eliminates all possibility of him trying to bend with his head, unless he wants to choke to death—

...which leaves his fingers, thank god for small mercies. He twitches them a little, trying to feel for the small grains of earth in the chains. Metal-bending had been hell to learn, but Hikaru can do the basics, given enough concentration.

_ Reach for it. They're inside, concealed, all you need to do is  ** pull ** . _

Nothing. The chains are pure – flawless, even – with no space to manipulate, like reaching out for a hand that wasn't quite there. Hikaru lets his fingers relax, thinking hard.

Ogata is awake now, has been ever since Hikaru tried his seismic sense, the small tremors disrupting his sleep. He surveys Hikaru with something akin to hatred, mingled with cruel satisfaction.

"Bet you didn't expect me to bend." Hikaru spits, by way of greeting. "Surprise, surprise, the Avatar's travelling companion doesn't just wash his dirty clothes."

"You brat." Ogata snarls, and Hikaru notes, not without delight, that his left arm is held at a grotesque angle that has  _ got _ to hurt like a bitch. It's a small victory, at least.

His lips have been split clean open, and Hikaru can taste the blood in them, all copper and rust. Along his arm, he can see strips of charred skin, running up from his wrists to his biceps like newly-formed veins, scorched into being at places Ogata's lightning must've struck. He's in a worse shape, probably, but not by a significant margin.

He shifts slightly, putting pressure on the chains again. His captor regards that motion, then tells him, smugly, "Don't bother. It's platinum."

Hikaru shrugs.

Ogata flicks a rock disinterestedly, "The avatar will come for you, I'm sure. I've left clues in your apartment, and I think he's bright enough to take the hint, at least."

_ That's it?  _Hikaru thinks that this has got to be the most unimpressive capture attempt so far, besting even the last record. He's been through better ones, honestly, elaborate enough to actually make him half-heartedly contemplate throwing Sai to their care. So they're waiting for Sai to bite. Knowing him, that stupid, kind-hearted, crybaby  _ idiot_, he will. Hikaru agrees, and tells Ogata just that.

"Shouldn't you be worried for him?"

"Me, worried for him? He's going to come." Hikaru allows himself the cockiest of laughs, etched with an unnecessary confidence. He's the one fettered to the wall, but he laughs as though the chains are mere accessories, complimenting the copper of his skin, the earth at his feet. "He's going to come, and he's going to kick your ass."

**+**

Here's one thing he dislikes most about being bait: the waiting.

Oh, the waiting is always absolute hell—he's spent two whole days squatting in a leaking hut before, just because Sai got the directions wrong and ended up in the wrong city. Usually, he likes to pass the time by flipping rocks with his toes, or making snide jabs at his captors, but this time he's stuck with some sleazy asshole who looks less like a maniac and more like a pervert. He'll pass on the conversation.

His arms are getting a little numb now. Hikaru shakes them a little, flexing his fingers to urge the warmth back into his veins. It's been, what, hours now? Days? He honestly has no clue, and the darkness of this cave offers no answers, either.

Ogata makes a disparaging snort, his head cocking slightly as he leers at Hikaru from five feet away. "I guess your avatar master has abandoned you, hasn't he? At this rate, I'll have to go and find him myself."

Hikaru looks at him, and has to suppress a derisive scoff. Does he even  _ listen _ to himself? Sai, abandon him? Their avatar cried over stray owlcats on a biweekly basis, couldn't bear to close the door on hungry polar-bear dogs, then wheedled Hikaru for leftovers to feed pets that weren't even  _ his _ to begin with. If any dumping had to be done between the both of them, it would honestly be the other way round. God, what a load of crap—Hikaru's heard of better jokes, really.

Ogata, blissfully unaware of those thoughts, advances slowly. He ignites a fist. "Well, that makes you excess weight."

_ Bring it _ _,_ Hikaru nearly snarls, pressing the words down on his tongue and feeling them bleed against flesh, stiff and solid and seething. Inviting energy into his limbs.

Then, the lone torch Ogata left by the entrance flares blue, and combusts.

"What—"

There's is a moment of tense silence. Hikaru strains against his chains, eyes fixed on the torch, which is still ablaze, but the fire is everywhere and nowhere, all at once, licking steadily at the cave floor even amidst the choking humidity.

Something is off, but what?

A figure strides into the cavern, footsteps a stiff, accurate staccato, and the first thing Hikaru notices is that it's far to short to be Sai. Well, that just killed all the relief in his chest.

The next is that he is alone. Ogata takes the liberty of hurling a short, angry burst of flame towards him, and the light from it catches a small gleam on the male's head, revealing the golden flame of Fire Nation royalty, curved around a neat topknot, the headpiece damascened with smaller intricacies.

Then, something thick and cold sinks into Hikaru's stomach, like coins dropped into shallow water.

Ogata fires another blast, and it's almost pathetic, how even that is deflected with the smallest flick of the male's wrist, forced to slide uselessly past him and against the walls.

A military tunic, dyed in rich black and a deep, biting crimson, trimmed with gold. Its sides are lined with trailing ash, then embroidered with thin ember in a way that was probably intended to be subtle – Hikaru was willing to bet – but had only ended up emphasising the height of elegance beyond reach.

And there, emblazoned on his chest: the signature three-pronged gold of the Fire Nation flame, set in a background of scarlet.

It's a familiar sight. His hair is longer now, framing the curve of his jaw and neck in tidy layers, that pretty fringe pinned loosely in the characteristic military hairstyle. But the rest of his face – his eyes, his smile (or lack thereof) – has remained exactly the same.  _ How long has it been? _

Even so, Hikaru can practically remember the last time they talked, the feeling of slender fingers laced between his, tugging, pulling, a fierce passion unmatched even by all the flames that left his fists.

"Touya?" Hikaru asks, unable to keep the confusion from his voice. "Why the hell are you here?"

**+**

"You." Ogata jabs tightly, and of course the bastard recognises Akira—he's a firebender, after all. They must've lived on the same continent at some point. Akira's eyes narrow just a fraction.

_ Crown Prince, Admiral, Youngest ever commander of the Southern Fleet, Pai-sho champion_—Hikaru used to list them just to tick the prince off, when they had been younger, but it's been at least a year now, and he's stopped catching up. Besides, it feels like Akira's ego deflates a little with each addition, so that's no fun, either. Hikaru thinks that, amongst all the titles they've could've bestowed, they shouldn't have missed out  _ 'stick in the mud'. _

Ogata's blasts continue, the pause between them a little too long and a little too predictable. Akira moves past them without blinking, and each of his sidesteps are so small and well-placed that – even to Hikaru – it looks as though he's been walking in a straight line.

Akira still hasn't answered his question—he wonders why. Biting his lips, he voices again, very uncertainly, "Where's Sai?"

Finally, the male spares him a short glance, and shift in his countenance would've come off as lazy and a little less than amused, if not for the fact that Hikaru has known him since forever. The glint in his cerulean eyes is unmistakably steady, but molten, blown wider with insecurity. He's still weighting his options.

Hikaru is there, but pinned to the wall by his limbs and throat. He wants to throttle Akira a little.

"In my ship. Under strict surveillance. He insisted on coming, but considering how this entire mess is a floundering attempt to trap him, I thought otherwise." Akira's voice is perfectly still, save for a small tremor that Hikaru can pick out, layered beneath a deceptively smooth undercurrent. He loosens a sigh, "You haven't changed at all. The both of you just can't stay out of trouble, can you?"

Hikaru lets out a laugh, but it's more of a huff than anything. "Wow, I missed you too, eternal rival. Did you make sure the windows were bolted, at least?"

Akira shoots him a look. His eyes are telling. "Windows? You assume I granted him the privilege of one."

Hikaru tuts to himself. Typical Touya, always a hundred steps ahead. He was the kind of person you would lose your mind chasing after, forever trying to outpace him, outthink him, only to realise that it was merely out of sheer politeness that he'd let you come even close enough to entertain that dream.

Ogata is watching their exchange with a flicker of mounting disbelief.

"Oh, I haven't forgotten about you." Akira turns to him, very, very carefully. His voice is low and sharp and flawlessly dangerous, like a sword that has only been drawn to reveal the curve of one polished blade, and nothing else.

He levels Ogata with glacial look, freezing to the core; the cave seems to dip a couple of degrees under his tempered anger.

It's breathtaking.  _ Akira _ is breathtaking. Hikaru allows himself a shiver.

There's something a little akin to disgust in those navy eyes, and maybe a bit of pity, if Hikaru squints; he knows that Akira has only ever bothered to let these emotions show when there was something he wanted out of it, some kind of reaction he was seeking to evoke.  He seems to accomplish this, because Ogata's fist burns with lightning again, like the screech of a thousand ravens, jarring to the ear. He descends upon Akira in rage, arms outstretched towards Akira's neck, beautiful, exposed, vulnerable—

and Akira steps aside, ducks, then aims two fluid jabs at Ogata's torso and arm, those fingers that Hikaru used to play  _ pai-sho _ with curled enough to press deeply into pressure points. The lightning stutters like a released breath, and fades out.

This is entirely Akira, Hikaru thinks, scowling against where he is still locked to the wall. Always precise to a fault. Perfect. Unyielding. Akira falls into a careful, measured rhythm as Ogata convulses, stepping smoothly between those careless swipes without so much as a flinch, evading each attack without even making a move to counter.

It's almost, almost hypnotising. Not that Hikaru is looking, of course.

"Are you done making a fool of yourself?" Akira asks Ogata, still darting gracefully between every blow, none of those fumbling, angry hits having even brushed him at all. His lilting tone is equal parts mocking yet genuinely curious, in a way that only Touya  _ fucking _ Akira could manage, and no one else.

Ogata snarls, glasses flashing.

"That's a no, isn't it?" Akira says, and then clenches his fist, releasing a short, accurate burst of cobalt that blasts the older male three feet behind, swept from his feet and slammed against a wall, the pressure of those flames almost fatal, but not yet. Intentionally so. Ogata spits out a mouthful of blood, half coagulated, and goes still.

It's clean and quick. Merciful. Hikaru almost feels a little disappointed.

**+**

When all is done, Akira glances back at him, still pinned to the wall. There is a flicker in those eyes that he quickly suppresses, but not before Hikaru picks on it. It's never that hard to figure him out, despite what people claim. Akira did a lot with his eyes and lips, the curve and quirk of each expression different from the last. Distinct. But when he lays his emotions out before him in a surrender gentler than tide, no one else bothers to actually  _ look . _

Ogata's unconscious body is left forgotten by the floor. Not that the both of them care. Hikaru notes, with another bout of maligned satisfaction, that he's bleeding again.

His throat is buzzing with questions, pressing against the roof of his mouth like birds in flight, begging to be freed. He swallows them down with difficulty, but even then they burn, deeper into his lungs.  _ Why are you here? How did you find Sai? You were scared, weren't you, Touya, and I felt— _

"You can bend with your fingers." Akira points out, matter of fact. It is not a question.

Hikaru shrugs against his bindings, "Well, yeah, but I can't bend these chains. 'Sides, I figured watching you would be more fun."

There is a moment of exasperated silence.

He doesn't ask, bitterly and desperately,  _it's been so long, where have you been?_ He doesn't, but it feels like Akira can sense it nonetheless. Of course he can—when it comes to Hikaru, he always can.

"Shindou." Akira begins, pinching the bridge of his nose, a small, delicate movement, weary beyond measure. It makes the both of them, at least.

Hikaru waits. Akira comes close enough for Hikaru to  _ taste _ the singed air around him – stark, bitter – and wraps Hikaru's chains carefully between his fingers. Silence floods Akira's eyes with a brittle concentration as he shapes the flame in his palms around the metal, heating it enough for the heavy chains to drip away from Hikaru's arms, incandescent. The steam from his fight emanates off him in heavy waves, between which Hikaru finds enough time to steal a breath or two.

Hikaru rubs the marks on his skin, flared in an angry red—rings and rings of it, between charred skin. Akira is still standing there, looking at him, his face quiet but also a little sad, as though he's not really sure what to say to make it better.

They are barely three inches apart. Hikaru can see a little of the calm, pellucid blue in his eyes, dark enough to drown you within its abyss, but also soft enough to let go before you actually did.  _Gods_.

"Skip the chi-blocking next time." he advises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wowie. hello there!
> 
> thank you for taking the time to read my terrible writing. this fic means a lot to me on so many different levels: it's my first dabble in the hikago fandom, and my first published piece after, what, over a year of hiatus? whew.
> 
> to clarify: i've messed with character ages so sai is 25 here, while hikaru and akira are both 17. everyone will eventually make an appearance, so hang in there!
> 
> ah, i'll try my best to be faithful to the avatar universe, but do correct me if you notice any discrepancies!
> 
> god, there are so, so many questions unanswered because this was written in hikaru's perspective—which admittedly was been the worst pov for me to pick, honestly.
> 
> even so, i'm playing with the idea of the next chapter being in sai or touya's point of view, and we'll see how that turns out! otherwise, i might just move on to a new ficlet entirely (but set in roughly the same vein, of course). Feel free to drop a review or two about how you felt about this chapter, and maybe some prompts for me to tackle, and yeah! we'll see how this goes!
> 
> thank you for sticking by, and have a nice one!! ^w^)/


	2. fujiwara, you messed up

Sai cries for two hours.

He is bawling nonsense by the end of the first, and actually has to waterbend the tears away so he doesn't choke on them while he spills apologies from his lips, all sweet and frantic and so, so worried. Hikaru feels a spike of actual affection. Jeez, Sai is turning him soft.

"I'm okay, I'm okay." he says gruffly, ducking all concerted attempts to pinch his cheeks. Sai takes this as cue to leech onto his side, arms curled tightly around him. Still sniffling, he buries Hikaru into his oversized tunic so deeply that all Hikaru can smell is the comforting scent of wisteria, reminiscent of wind and summer fields.

"I'm sorry." Sai murmurs, and the edges in his tone are serious now, wiped clean of humour. Hikaru squirms closer to him, eyes shut, breath deep, and Sai's hair falls around him in layers and layers, blocking out the rest of the world. "I'm sorry you have to go through that because of me. I'll keep you safe next time, alright?"

Jaw slack, he nods slowly into the soft folds of airbender cloth, and Sai's smile settles against him, warm.

And then Touya Akira has to go and to ruin it – that complete  _idiot_  – by saying very carefully, "He's hurt. The captor charred his left arm."

"H-Hikaruuuuuuu!" Another wave of fresh tears, dribbling onto Sai's clean tunic, and well, that is another problem—Sai does not wash his own clothes. Trapped within his master's lethal chokehold, Hikaru levels Akira with a toxic glare.

_ Damn it, Touya. _

**+**

_ "Thanks." _

_ It sounds almost grudging, but he hasn't intended for it to be. _

_ Akira turns to him, eyes brimmed with astonishment, and Hikaru reciprocates with a small nudge, arms slack by his side, held gingerly at a distance. The burns are still fresh upon his skin, viciously elaborate; he is careful not to touch. _

_ The story goes something like this: Akira had been docked at the other side of the island, preparing to head North to join with another fleet, when Sai – the exact same avatar that his father the Fire Lord had spent close to a month sending soldiers after – crash-landed on his deck, weeping about Hikaru and bespectacled monsters. Entirely out of coincidence, apparently. And so Akira had set out to hunt Ogata down, while seeing it fit to keep Sai in confinement, for the good measure. The story is short and clipped, like Akira's stupid fringe. It would be funny if it were not depressing how their vacation plans have been foiled. _

_ Fire Nation soldiers – most of whom he recognises are part of Akira's fleet – are beginning to pour in from the entrance of the cave, their ships having pulled up against shore. Sai must be in one of them—Hikaru can picture him locked in a room, restless with nerves after yelling himself hoarse. Waiting. Hikaru almost wants to laugh. The soldiers shout, point, and their uttered orders are stiff within the cave's resonance. Sometime in between, Ogata has been tied up and lugged off (thank spirits) and the soldiers are lingering around, dusting for evidence. Everything else is beginning to fall into place. _

_ It is a slow, careful process, wrought with endless complications—far more than is possibly needed for a simple kidnapping. He watches as each loose end is snipped ruthlessly to the bone, every chance accounted for, every stray clue systematically dismantled to nothing. No doubt Akira has charted the entire thing. _

_ The latter is still looking at him, momentarily taken aback. Slowly, his expression softens. "Don't thank me." he says, and his tone is dismissive. "We're eternal rivals. Who am I to spar against, if you got yourself done over by a craven lowlife?" _

_ On his part, he did make a good point. _

_ Hikaru chews on a thought, lets it incubate, and swallows. To think that Akira had come all the way here to find him. Without knowing who he was up against, or if Hikaru was still alive to begin with. There were too many unknown variables in this mess—if it were him, would he have done the same for Touya? _

_ Akira's eyes trace the burns on his arms, unreadable. "You need to get that healed properly. It's not—" He pauses, holding on to his words like a lifeline. Thinking. His hair slides across his face, blocking out the heavy cerulean of his eyes, and inexplicably, Hikaru itches to brush it aside. The undercurrent of his tone is something that Hikaru will never fathom. "Just – take care of yourself, Shindou." _

_ And the answer he finds is: yes, in a heartbeat. A thousand times over. _

**+**

"Ow."

The water pulses under Sai's fingers like heartbeat, its glow incandescent. Hikaru eyes it with some suspicion, and then Sai fixes him with a disapproving frown. "Hikaru," he says, testily, "I haven't even started."

Hikaru is sitting cross-legged beside him, an arm submerged in a heavy wooden basin. Light from the healing water refracts into his lap, like a thousand pieces of glass set in casted sunlight, fragmented against cloth. His sleeves have been hiked up to make room for Sai's fingers – which are being _way_ touchier than he would've liked, honestly – and the pain on his arm swells under contact, throbbing a path upwards, upwards, against the flow of his veins.

"These cells are dead." Sai loosens out a sigh, his eyes markedly tired. His hand continues moving the water around in circles, swirling it over Hikaru's arm again and again, in an undulating pattern that is reminiscent of winter tides lipping against shore. "Hikaru, I can't breathe life back in them, even if I tried."

And that is that, he supposes. Another truth that cannot be changed.

Haltingly, Hikaru turns his arm this way and that, surveying the damage. The burns are harsh and erratic against the copper of his skin – angry, almost – and the brazen pattern reminds him uncannily of the brocade on Akira's clothes. He remembers the way they had felt, pressed against his palm. "It's okay. We'll think of another way."

The air between them is stagnant, as steady as candlelight. Quietly, Sai continues to wash the water across his skin, letting the liquid soak the pain away, its touch soft against Hikaru's wound. Even though it does little to heal him, the rhythm of that action is slow and welcome. Predictable.

The older muses, "They might have more healers back at the Fire Nation."

"Oh, so the mighty avatar is willing to go back now? No more hot springs?" Hikaru can't help but rib, flicking water onto Sai's face. It hits him square on the forehead, earning an appalled squawk. Pouting, he waves a hand, all assured and smooth, and the water lifts off his face to join the liquid around Hikaru's arm, melting into its flow.

Then, an insolent huff. The rush of air blows the bangs away from his face. Hikaru looks up, and a beam tugs at Sai's lips, "Ah, we'll save hot springs for some other time. Let's go back!"

_ About time. _ Hikaru laughs.

**+**

The rest of the day goes by pretty tame. Sai only takes about an hour, and his arm gets better, but not by much. Expectedly, Akira makes himself very, very scarce—and that's a shame, because Hikaru's been dying to get a kick at him for  _ ages _  now. It's like Akira figured that out, and then made it his life mission avoid Hikaru at all costs. Sai – being Sai – spends the rest of the afternoon playing  _pai-sho_  with the kitchen crew, and he would join, really, but his mind is buzzing with a mixture of pain and numbness that makes it exceedingly hard to read ahead. To his credit, he drifts through about two matches before his legs start twitching.

He is left to his own devices, and is not sure if he should be thankful about it.

Their ship is bound for the Fire Nation, and he doubts that Akira is remotely pleased about the abrupt change in his course. Wasn't he due North, actually? Hikaru remembers something about joining with another fleet. In any case, the journey will take four days, and Hikaru is nettled already. The fact that there is no earth within two miles of this place does not make it better.

Later, Hikaru sits by the deck of the  _ Tengen_, absorbing the last breathes of the dying sunset. The ship itself is drowned in languid silence; the soldiers have all gone indoors for dinner (or whatever they busied themselves with) and here, on this deck, there is only him. And the edge of the horizon, lipped by dusk.

Eye lidded, he leans back, falling comfortably into the warmth. The breath leaves him in steady waves, in and out, like the roar of broken tides against the steel of  _ Tengen's_ hull. It is so very quiet.

Then, soft footsteps melt into existence, a bold interruption. He doesn't need to try very hard to measure the number of beats it takes for each step to fall into place, to pin a name to that new presence. Faintly, he is aware of Akira settling softly beside him, one arm braced on a railing. He waits. Trickling ember from the horizon cradles Akira's face, its hold gentle, smudging out the harsh edges of each curve.

He is looking at Hikaru, and his eyes are lit with a gold brighter than comets.

"How is your arm?"

His tone is so tentative that it's almost amusing. Hikaru looks away, stifling a laugh. It feels as though he is watching a fledgling map out unfamiliar territory, unsure of what it did not yet recognise, but not afraid. Something warm folds against his throat, like a heated blade, and Hikaru pulls his lips into a smile, replying, "Fine."  _ Intact.  _ He wriggles his fingers in demonstration, and then watches as the tension slides from Akira's eyes, surrendering to a refulgence bluer than the sky above them both.

"That's a relief." Something else registers, and then Akira's gaze tapers off, indicating that he's already moved on to contemplate another vein of thought. He has stopped looking at Hikaru.

Irritation tugs at his chest. "Touya," Hikaru rebukes, deliberately interrupting that inner monologue. "What is it?"

Maybe it is the wrong thing to ask. Hikaru watches – not without some curiosity – as Akira's lips curl into a small, delicate moue, as though he had assumed that Hikaru's question was intended to offend. "Avatar Fujiwara abandoned Father's training halfway. Would you care to explain?"

_ Ah_ _._ The air drags out of his lungs in a loosened exhale, like a river emptying itself into the sea. Truthfully, he had been expecting this question, sooner or later—not that anticipating it would've made him any better prepared to actually tackle it.

Akira's eyes are piercing. Accusing. It picks the words out of his ruined throat and sets them on fire. And now he has none left to speak aloud.

He scowls. "It was Sai's idea."

"Yes," Akira says, sufferingly and patiently. "But you allowed him."

They sink into a misaligned beat of silence as he lets Hikaru absorb that fact. His eyes are slow, and steady, slanted in the light. And then—

"You weren't there." Hikaru sulks, petulant but not regretting it. "I waited three weeks for you at the palace, and you weren't there."

At that, Akira sighs, and he sounds more mournful than anything. "Shindou, I had matters to attend to. The 47th Fleet encountered pirates off the South Pole."

He pauses for a bit, and seems to grasp a new thread. When he speaks again, it is stern. "Still, the fact that I was busy doesn't warrant any irresponsibility from the both of you."

Hikaru feels a retort climbing up his throat, and he bites it down, despite himself. Different words hurtle out of him, as though thrown over the edge of a cliff. They are an appeasement, but he's not sure if they are what he means to say. "I know that." 

_ Matters to attend to. _

And that is the thing, about being crown prince and fleet admiral all mingled into one: Akira always had somewhere to  _be_ _._ A sort of familiar frustration settles into him, thinking about all those times their schedules had let them brush by each other, close enough to touch. Maybe enough to meet eyes, share gazes, then move on in entirely different directions. And nothing more. He likens them to two comets, coming close enough to overlap, but never to actually converge—because by and by they both had different destinations to reach, and different places to be.

(Sometimes, he thinks that even the gravity between them cannot be enough.)

Akira is silent, waiting. Like he already knows that Hikaru has something else to add.

"Will you be staying?" Hikaru asks him, and he can't help but sound just a little plaintive, as though he had been offered two paths and didn't know which one to pick. "When we return."

Akira tilts his head, thinking, "Yes."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eheheh...  
> a short ficlet update! i decided to continue on with this mini arc(?) thing, and the next chapter will be set a little after this one as well! but it'll be the last, i promise. i plan to move on to other things!  
> i can't promise a timely update, because exams start next week, but i'll try! sorry that there's so much focus on akira and hikaru atm, and sai and maybe mentions of kouyo ahaha... i will bring in everyone eventually, but right now i'm still grappling with some details.
> 
> a consolidation (maybe i should write a doc for this, idk):  
> sai - 25, avatar, born airbender  
> hikaru - 17, earthbender  
> akira - 17, firebender, crown prince of the fire nation  
> (and some mentions of:)  
> waya - earthbender  
> kouyo - firebender, fire lord  
> more details about the timeline will be revealed next chapter, because this author commentary is getting kinda long... i tried to make akira and hikaru a little more mature than their canon 12 y/o selves, but i'm not exactly sure how that played out haha. 
> 
> anyways, thank you very much for reading and supporting! to everyone who's left kudos, thank you! to new readers, feel free to leave kudos, comments or criticism! if you have a prompt for me, or a particular scene you want to see from this universe, do leave it in the comments as well!  
> have a nice one!


	3. in which hikaru is so whipped

Royal courts are a mess.

Hikaru goes everywhere with Sai, and so has always been forced to sit through each one of those _Avatar Fujiwara we need your help_  meetings. But it's been a whole month now, since their (unwarranted) vacation, and he's long forgotten how much he used to loathe Fire Nation politics. This is a timely reminder.

"You're dozing off." Touya whispers, jabbing him lightly in the ribs. "It's almost your turn to talk."

 _Hah?_  Groggily, Hikaru tries to blink the sleep from his eyes, but even that is difficult when all the councilmen are talking in tones that seem to invite it back, instead. He licks his lips and reaches out for the stack of papers splayed on the table, fingers ironing out their creases methodically.

Touya is next to him, the curve of one slender leg crossed over the other, leaning casually back against the ornate chair. His tunic, red and embroidered gold, is tucked neatly into black slacks, and smoothened into stiff, immaculate folds. How he sits through these conferences without showing even the slightest hint of boredom is honestly beyond Hikaru. Was it some sort of sick skill mastered from endless childhood exposure (if so, spirits rest that poor soul), or were all Fire Nation nobility born like that? Like they thrived under soul-sucking politics?

In contrast, Hikaru's shirt might have a little bit of drool. He's not really sure if it has always been there.

Another round of polite banter is exchanged, and opposite them, Sai is snoring lightly, his head tipped back against the chair. Which is slightly worrying, because most of the conversation within the room is pertaining to him—or, specifically, the attempt at his abduction. At the moment, he is in a worse state than Hikaru – which makes Hikaru feel better about the drool, at least – because his eyes are near-vacant. There is a glimmer of despair in them that suggests that he's stopped paying attention about eighteen sentences ago.

The rooms falls into a mildly-expectant silence once the last councilmen concludes, and Hikaru waits, a little confused but also a lot sleepy, until Touya stomps helpfully on his foot.

Ah, his turn then? Hikaru pushes back the chair, allowing himself a slow, languid stretch, blissfully oblivious to authority. To his left, he can practically imagine Touya's horrified glare, and relishes in it.

**+**

"What the _hell_  was that?" Touya rages, once they've both filed out of the room, step in step. He is seething, practically, his hair swinging, framing each scowl with tapered precision. "Shindou, you don't swear in front of a councilman. Point, you don't swear in a room _full_  of them!"

"Look, I said what I had to say, swears be damned. The bastard who tried to catch Sai never actually got him. He's rotting in prison now as we speak." Hikaru shrugs crisply, and huffs, "In the end, it went okay, so what does that matter to you?"

The Crown Prince's lips purse. "He got _you_ ," he says quietly, the curve of those syllables uncharacteristically pliant. "And you don't think that matters to me?"

That did it. Touya did that to him sometimes—when he wasn't being a frosty prick, he liked to say things that made Hikaru's chest ache, things softer and kinder than Hikaru had thought him capable of when they had first met.

Words crumple instantaneously on Hikaru's tongue, gaudy and suddenly replaceable. It is as though a flame has been lit inside his mouth, and he does not dare to swallow.

In this silence, his throat feels thick, almost, heavy with some kind of emotion that he can't pin a name to. Hikaru hastens his pace in response, pulling a little ahead so that the sun shields his face from view.

Touya makes no move to match that speed. He knew when to stop pushing, which was one of Hikaru's favourite things about him, at the very least.

"Let's spar." Hikaru tells him, determinedly looking away, at anywhere but Touya. "We haven't fought for a while now."

But he can hear the slight smile in Touya's voice when he finally replies, and this – _this_  all scares him a little, to be shaping his world back around someone with cobalt flames in his eyes. When his hand brushes against the back of Touya's knuckles, all he feels is muted warmth. "Alright."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaa thank you all for the support thus far ;v; I apologize for disappearing for so long—school has been pretty demanding asffgshhjkl  
> have short little ficlet to tide you guys over while I work on the next chapter (it's going to be a longer one, I promise!)  
> this is a wrap-up of the sai-abduction (?) arc so they're all back in the fire nation now kekeke, and sai will continue with his fire-bending! we're starting to introduce more characters in the next one ^^ keep your eyes peeled~  
> In the meantime, thank you so much for reading, and have a lovely day!


	4. what are these, subpar?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> an obligatory new years' piece! happy new years everyone >o<)/

 

New Year was a disappointingly mild affair, mostly because halfway through dinner, stupid, _stupid_  Touya disappeared off to review a stack of blasted fleet formations that he decided were more important than, well, New Year celebrations.

Which definitely _sucked_ , because out of everything that night, Hikaru had been looking forward the most to shoving a whole stack of firecrackers up his shirt, just to scare the living daylights out of him.

Dinner without Touya was a civil one, up until the part where Sai decided to drink himself asleep, and Kouyo retired (read: wandered off) to watch fireworks and play paisho—which left Hikaru and the Empress, and a scattering of lords and ladies whose names Hikaru could hardly remember. 

(Sai did not count, mostly because he was too shitfaced to even do anything more than snore, facedown on the table. Stupid avatar. Stupid master.)

It was only awkward then, because there was a ton of food laid out across them, lavish and mostly untouched, and Hikaru was perfectly content to stuff his face silly, except that the Empress was looking at him, her lips tilted in a slightly pleased manner—and spirits, why, why, why was she staring at him like that? _Why?_  Was there – gods forbid – sauce on his face?

He looked up and coughed distinctly.

"Ah, Shindou-san," said Touya Akiko, achingly polite to a fault. Something akin to fond benevolence was laced in her voice, and Hikaru promptly swallowed his mouthful of thick soup, only to feel inexplicably ashamed afterwards. As though he'd spent the last hour drowning newly-born turtleducks in front of her.

"Y-yes?"

"I would like to ask you for a favour," the female inclined her head, and Hikaru could only nod, really, and agree. And then she stood up and motioned for him to follow, and everything else that night went to shit.

**+**

"Touya's room?"

"Yes, Shindou-san. Akira-san asked me to retrieve these for him the other afternoon, and I neglected to pass them over. Since he went off to review his fleet formation earlier, now would be a good time." Genuinely apologetic, Akiko heaved an armful of red – _red?_  – scrolls into Hikaru's hands. He stared at them, slightly confounded, because there had to be a thousand miles of mouldy parchment in there, at least. It was New Year night. Touya, _how?_

"I'll be leaving to view the fireworks with my husband now. I trust that these scrolls are in safe hands?" Akiko smiled, and Hikaru nodded, throat dry, fingers wet with nerves. He adjusted them slightly. "Take good care of them, Shindou-san. They come straight from the royal archives."

Bowing slightly in thanks, she turned to exit, and Hikaru was left there with an armful of scrolls the bloody shade of red, his voice caught between his lips.

"You're welcome," he said, woefully belated, and stared until the door to the library swung shut.

**+**

"Oi, Touya! Touya, open up!" Hikaru drummed his fingers against the wood of Akira's door, and briefly wondered if it was thick enough to listen through. He contemplated pressing his ear against it, and – after another round of obnoxious knocking that yielded no results – moved to actually do just that, when the door slid open, and Akira was standing there all of a sudden, his eyes lipped by candlelight.

Hikaru tried not to stare, but was – beyond anything – so, _so_  difficult, with the way the dusty red warmed the curves of Akira's face, the tips of his hair. He appeared no less delicate than porcelain in the light, his skin moulded the way artisans would shape their china pieces. Hikaru waited for the breath to return to his lungs – like the faithful crash of ocean tide against shore – waited and waited and waited still—and then Akira parted his lips.

"I told you, Shindou." Akira said, mildly. "I'm done with New Year festivities for tonight."

Hikaru struggled with his armful of paper, "I know, but—"

"Those fleet formations aren't going to figure themselves out," the other male snipped, leaning lightly against the doorframe. His hair fell in layers and layers over his cheeks, a little shorter than it had been two weeks ago (so a haircut had happened somewhere, _much_ overdue) but no less dark—like the blotted ink staining his tunic sleeves, the edges of his brocade collar as well. "I know we barely had time to talk after dinner, but I can't get my work done if you get me drunk, Shindou."

" _Yes_ , Touya, but—"

Akira's eyes sank southwards to the mass of crumpled red in Hikaru's arms, all rolled up, crinkled paper and dye.

" _Spirits_ , are those firecrackers?" he wrinkled his noise, in a way that made Hikaru want to reach over to smoothen the creases out. He had to fight to keep his hands to his sides, lest he spilled the scrolls all over the floor. "Shindou, you _idiot_."

"Uh." Eloquence at its finest, Hikaru supposed. He was even willing to let the insult slide, in favour of struggling to string his words together – to piece coherence bit by bit so that Touya would understand—

"No, Touya, they're—"

"Look, I appreciate the sentiment, but I told you," Akira huffed, thoroughly put out, "no festivities after midnight. No drinking, no yelling, and no, no, absolutely _no_  firecrackers in my room."

"Yes," said Hikaru, raising the scrolls for effect, "but—"

"And you've brought them here to, what, poke fun at me? Well, _fine_ , if that's what you want, a Happy New Year to you, too," Akira scowled, and in a single gesture, flicked his fingers to incinerate the scrolls right where they sat between Hikaru's arms. Immediately Hikaru screamed and dropped them, velvet bindings and all—some of the unluckier ones had already been reduced to nothing but ash. Fuck. _Fuck._

"Touya, you massive shithead, put it out— _put it out!_ " Hikaru yelped, jumping wildly on the flaming mess. It sounded nothing less than a stampede of deranged mooselions invading the fire nation palace, and honestly, if no royal guard was going to burst in and neutralise the threat then Hikaru would personally throttle their crown prince _himself_.

" _Touya_ ," said Hikaru, hollow and broken, but then all that despair channeled itself (helpfully) into righteous anger and Hikaru wanted to punch something—preferably Akira's dumb face.

 _I should have brought Sai's alcohol bottle_ , Hikaru thought, furious and also weary beyond measure. _Then at least I would have something sharp to **bash him over the head with**._

There was a fire hazard three foot from him, and Akira was just standing there, arms folded, looking caught between bland irritation and pure bewilderment that nothing in the red bundle was, well, _crackling_. He seemed to choose the latter.

"What?" The wrinkle on his face deepened. At the same time, he slid neatly against one side of the doorframe to make room for Hikaru to cross into his threshold, an unspoken invitation. One that Hikaru would be sure to take because _by_   _gods_ , Hikaru was going to _kill_  him. And then kill himself, because century-old fleet scrolls, straight from the Fire Nation archives—reduced to _dust_.

He was only beginning to step into Akira's room – sleeves rolled up because some well-deserved punching was about to be done – when Akira added, sulkily, "And honestly, Shindou, couldn't you have at least deigned to bring firecrackers that exploded properly? What are these, subpar?"

"Touya," said Hikaru, voice a sleek, ominous promise, "those weren't firecrackers."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's laughable. Because from Akira's perspective, Hikaru was deliberately trying to mess with his evening plans—but even then, EVEN THEN, at the end of the mess, Akira's still like "come in anyway". So soft for Shindou uhuhuhu.
> 
> Anyway!!! I'm so sorry if the style of this chapter is foreign to you! I was definitely messing around with my writing style in this, because it was 101% intended to be lousy crack~ I enjoyed writing it for sure, but the way I structured my writing in this is nowhere close to how I usually write my things~ for one, Shindou is a lot more childish, but he's slightly buzzed so it might be the alcohol speaking :3 who knows~
> 
> I did intend for the distinction between plot and crack to be very clear >u< so apologies if the writing style here throws you off (in my lousy defence, it's always good to play around with style XDD) feel free let me know what works in this new style, and what doesn't ^v^
> 
> Even so, thank you for the wonderful support so far, and for everyone's exceedingly lovely patience! Have a wonderful New Years and a great 2018 ahead~~ >w<)/  
> next chapter up soon, keep your eyes peeled for new ppl~~ (but I keep delaying, so who knows XD)


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